


Strange Love

by blackwidowmovie



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Breaking Up & Making Up, Fluff, I'm Sorry, IT'S NOT MY FAULT, M/M, No Smut, a lot of crying, my larents are stupid, they're so stupid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-09
Updated: 2015-09-09
Packaged: 2018-04-19 23:09:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4764488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackwidowmovie/pseuds/blackwidowmovie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"No one knows this, but a few years ago my brother and his boyfriend broke up. Things just got to be too much for them, or for his boyfriend I should say, since he was the one to end it. I remember my brother randomly came home that day and collapsed on mum's lap. This 'breakup' lasted all of eight hours until his boyfriend showed up at the door begging to see him. Shockingly, my brother told him no at first. They got back together of course, and have been rock solid ever since. The idiots." <a href="http://stylesforstiles.tumblr.com/post/106437619631/no-one-knows-this-but-a-few-years-ago-my-brother">(Source)</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Strange Love

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little fic I wrote a while ago when I was inspired by that anon (I'm not saying it was Lottie but there's no actual evidence that it wasn't Lottie). I kind of forgot that I wrote it actually, but it's done so I figured I would publish.

**3 p.m.**

Louis slams the door shut behind him, the sound echoing around the house as he takes another deep breath, tries to ignore the tightness in his chest and the way his vision is blurring. For a second, he thinks he’s alone, then Lottie calls, “Lou? That you?”

“Yeah,” he says, voice breaking, and that’s when the tears spill over, and suddenly he’s standing in the entryway, a complete mess.

It’s Jay who finds him first, though he can see Lottie nervously peering at them from the top of the stairs, clearly sensing something off. “Oh, baby, what’s wrong? Come here.” His mother wraps her arms around him tightly, petting his hair. He loves her so much it hurts. He’s taking little hiccuping breaths and he doesn’t want to tell her. 

He doesn’t need to go into specifics, though. She pulls away to look at him but he refuses to look her in the eye. “What is it, love? You know you can tell me anything. Shh.” She pulls him back in, so it’s over her shoulder that he manages, “H-Harry - “

“Oh, no, sweetheart.”

Ten minutes later, he’s in his mum’s lap and Lottie has brought him water and a blanket and he’s trying to convince them that he’s not actually dying, only it’s not working very well because then he thinks about Harry and starts crying again. Lottie keeps patting his back gently as Jay strokes his hair, the most comfort he could ever want or need. He doesn’t want to tell them everything, but he couldn’t ask for a better support system. 

“D’you want tea?” Lottie coos, because she knows him too well. He nods, and she leaves his side to make it just how he likes, no sugar. Harry takes one sugar. Louis wishes he hadn’t memorized that stupid fact, but he had, and here he is thinking about it. 

One hour and two cups of tea later, he heads upstairs to take a shower, to clear his head. Tries not to think about Harry’s shirt hanging on the chair in his room. Fails miserably.

He does try to pull himself together in the shower, though, rubbing at his red eyes and breathing in deeply, trying to slow his racing heart. Can’t think, but that’s okay, for now. He can think later.

**9 p.m.**

Considering how difficult it is for Louis hold himself together through dinner and Jay’s gentle questions and Lottie offering to post embarrassing pictures of Harry online, he should be less surprised than he is when Harry shows up at his door.

Louis is in his bedroom playing FIFA and thinking about anything but Harry (nothing but Harry) when there’s a knock on the door downstairs, and his heart skips a beat before he can even think about what it means. He knows who it is before he hears Jay’s less than friendly tone, before he hears a hushed conversation, before he makes his way halfway down the stairs to eavesdrop on a familiar, heart-wrenching voice.

“…can’t really explain because I don’t know how, honestly. It’s just…” Louis can’t see him, but he knows Harry is running a hand through his hair. “It’s a lot, you know? We’re kind of crazy about each other, and shit, sorry, I mean, I already regret it and it’s only been eight hours. That must mean something, right? I messed up, I’m just… I just want to apologize, at least.”

Louis listens to his mum say something about how maybe it’s better if they give each other some space for a little while, but he’s already down the stairs and around the corner before she finishes talking. Apparently she’s invited Harry into the kitchen and seems to be making tea out of reflex, used to having him around the house. Harry’s back is to Louis.

“Mum,” says Louis, alerting them to his presence. When Harry turns around, it’s like a punch to the stomach. He’s not sure what he expected, but a mirror of his own puffy eyes and miserable expression were not it. 

Oh.

“Mum, it’s okay,” Louis says, not taking his eyes off of Harry. “We can talk.”

Jay looks between them a bit nervously, but though Louis  _knows_ she believes in them, wants them to get this right just as much as he does, so she only says, “Alright,” and squeezes Louis’s hand on her way out, leaving the two of them alone and in deafening silence.

On the one hand, Louis wants to drink him in, his stupid curls and his green eyes and his lips and his skin and just stare until he walks away again, but on the other hand, he’s not quite sure he wants to look at Harry at all. 

“Lou,” Harry says finally, voice shaky. “I don’t - I don’t know how to explain, I - I just - as soon as you walked away I felt, I dunno, wrong. Like I’d done something wrong.” He runs a hand through his hair, which is already messy from him having done that too many times. Harry’s eyes are wide and open and honest, desperate. “I’m so sorry, I’m such an idiot, I just - it just got really overwhelming for a minute but I - I realized that I should’ve just, like, tried to work it out with you instead of saying we shouldn’t be together. That was stupid and I’m so, so sorry.” He bites his lip, and Louis senses that this is it. Harry is here pouring his heart out to him and he’s supposed to do the same, somehow, even though he feels a little dizzy trying to absorb everything Harry just said.

“I love you,” says Louis. He says it because he can. And because it’s honest, and he thinks Harry should just know where he stands. If anything, Harry’s expression crumbles a bit, his serious facade fading back into misery. “But I don’t know, Haz, I just.”  _I just spent the better part of the last six hours in tears because of you, and it was a bit scary_. “I’m not just going to welcome you back with open arms.” He really hopes Harry isn’t about to start crying, because then Louis will do anything for him, like a reflex. So he closes his eyes when Harry starts to blink faster. Takes a breath. “I don’t know,” he repeats. “I’m not sure what I want right now.”  _I want you back._

When he opens his eyes again, Harry is still watching him carefully, hands by his sides. Less fidgety than normal, somehow. Like he isn’t breathing. Harry seems less teary now, so Louis keeps his eyes open while he listens.

“Louis, I don’t know what to do, but I promise I know I made a mistake, I - I want us to be together. Like always, I think. If you still want that.” He takes a deep breath. “If you’re not sure, though, I can - I can, like, back off or whatever. I’m so sorry,” he says again. Louis has a feeling that if he doesn’t kick Harry out of his kitchen soon, he’ll just keep apologizing and eventually Louis will have to give in. It’s not a bad plan, really, if that’s what Harry was going for. 

Simple, but effective.

“I think you should go, babe - um, I think you should go,” says Louis carefully, avoiding his gaze now.  _Babe_. Shit. They aren't good at this. Truly, Louis is bad at maths and geography and keeping his mouth shut, but he is the absolute worst at staying away from Harry Styles for any length of time. 

“I - okay.” Harry hesitates and Louis risks a glance. Harry looks like he wants to say more, but all he says is, “Okay, yeah. I’ll go. I’m sorry.”

Louis is definitely right about the apology thing. So he says, “I heard you the first time,” a bit more harshly than he means to. 

The silence is deafening and also kicking Harry out is kind of like kicking a kitten out, so he makes his mum do it, in the end. She was clearly listening the whole time, so he just says loudly, “Tea’s ready,” and watches Harry scramble to collect himself. 

“I’m just,” he explains quickly when Jay comes back in, “on my way out. Good to see you.” He turns to Louis, focused on him alone. “Think about what I said?” he asks quietly and then, to Louis’s surprise, kisses him quickly on the cheek. “I love you, too,” he mumbles, and then he’s gone, just like earlier. When the door clicks shut behind him, Louis exhales. Ignores the way his mother is looking at him like he’s crazy when he refuses tea. Ignores the way his face is burning where Harry’s lips touched it. Ignores Harry’s words already replaying in his head.

Maybe if he ignores it, it will just go away.

**3 a.m.**

It doesn’t.

 _Like always, I think_. 

As if Louis didn’t already know that Harry had their wedding planned and baby names picked out (they hadn’t  _discussed it_ , exactly, but Harry’s search history is enough evidence). As if Louis hadn’t already picked out the exact shade of yellow for the walls of the nursery and been online shopping for Green Bay Packers onesies because Harry would  _die_ at the overwhelming cuteness.

 _Like always_ is a lot different than what Harry had said earlier, about  _I don’t know anymore_ and  _too much_ and  _overwhelmed_. And Louis understands, in a way, because he feels the same soul-crushing, unavoidable love for Harry that (he thinks) Harry feels for him, and it’s scary sometimes. It’s terrifying, actually, to put that much faith in one person, to let them see every part of who you are, and to love, respect, appreciate it. He and Harry have never had that problem; they are, in Harry’s own words, crazy about each other. In a way that makes Louis unable to sleep without Harry next to him, or at the very least hearing his voice, or seeing his name light up on his phone screen, as stupid as that seems. 

Maybe if they were different people, Louis would be more hung up on the  _I love you, too_ , but it’s never been a question of love, really. Even if Harry had shown up on his doorstep in two months or two years or twenty or fifty or even if he hadn’t shown up at his house at all, Louis is pretty much positive that he would still love Harry, and Harry would still love him. It is what it is, he supposes, a fact he can’t change. They’re in love. 

It’s a question of whether or not they can make it work.

So it’s three in the morning and Louis is thinking about  _like always if you still want that_ and of course he wants that and he puts himself in Harry’s shoes, for a second. He imagines he’s the one who freaked out. It’s not hard; he’s come close to backing out before, but always, always a few hours later… He remembers how good they are for each other and he thinks about things like fate and puzzle pieces falling into place.

Lying there, at 3 a.m., Louis imagines Harry having done the same, only it played out in real life, and he knows what happens next. 

He leaves a note for his mum telling her where he’s gone, but she probably already knows. 

**3:46 a.m.**

Louis is officially insane. He’s also crying and he doesn’t really know why because he’s pretty sure things are going to be okay. He’s sitting in his car outside Harry’s flat, breathing deeply, and probably looking at least a little crazy, at this hour of the morning.

It takes him a minute to get out of the car, to shakily press the buzzer to Harry’s door. He barely breathes while he waits in the semi-darkness, not sure if Harry’s even - 

“Hello?” Harry’s voice sounds tired, but not like he just woke up, more like he’s confused as to who would be calling at this hour. Louis doesn’t take the time to reflect on this.

“It’s me,” he says nervously.

A beat. Then - 

“Come in, then.”

The door buzzes open, and he races up the stairs to Harry’s door, which is already open, Harry leaning against it casually in sweatpants, no shirt. Louis is still in sweats, too, but he’d grabbed a tank top and a beanie before he left. 

He hadn’t been thinking very clearly.

Harry lets him in to the half-lit room, where a mug of tea sits on the table and a rumpled blanket on the couch, furthering his theory that Harry hadn’t exactly been asleep, either. 

As soon as the door closes, since he isn’t good at silence, Louis starts talking like they just left off. “I accept your apology and I still want that too, like, I want us to be together for - forever and I  _am_ sure I want this and I think, I just needed to know that you still want it too.” He wasn’t even expecting himself to say that last bit, but there it is, out in the open now. 

Louis feels a little breathless, and also he doesn’t know what to do with his hands.

“Lou.” Harry’s voice is broken, soft, just for him, just for them. “I do, yes, of course I still want that. With you. Can’t even imagine…”  _Being with anybody else_. “I couldn’t even deal with six hours,” he says, laughing shakily. 

They’re both crying again. Louis vows that after today he’s never going to cry again, except probably at their wedding and the births of their first three children, but. He’ll try. 

He didn’t come here at 4 a.m. for nothing, though, and all it takes is for him to take one step closer and Harry practically attacks him, kissing him like he’s been starved of it for the last… day. It hasn’t even been a full day, Louis thinks dazedly. 

Harry pulls away for half a second and Louis takes the opportunity to jump into his arms, trusting Harry to catch him, and he does. Louis smiles into his neck and wraps his legs around Harry’s waist, whispers, “You’re so stupid. We’re stupid. It’s 4 in the morning.”

“Mhm,” Harry agrees, carrying him to his bedroom. Louis is kind of too tired for hot makeup sex and he’s pretty sure Harry is too (plus they’ve both been way too tearful for it not to be weird at this point), so he nuzzles into Harry’s shoulder instead of kissing his neck, moves himself physically closer but doesn’t push it. 

“Missed you,” says Louis quietly, setting off another round of giddy, restless giggling. 

Harry kisses his nose before putting him down gently. “Missed you too.”

Louis quickly strips off his tank top and tosses his beanie on the floor, shedding his sweatpants as well when he sees Harry do the same. He pushes Harry until he turns over to be the little spoon even though he’s taller than Louis now, then pulls the covers up over them, hiding them from the world. 

He swears nothing has ever felt as natural as the feeling of Harry’s back against his chest, the sweet nothings he’s whispering to him as they drift off, hands tangled together. 

Inhaling the familiar scent of Harry, Harry, Harry,  _home_. 

They’re kind of stupid, Louis thinks. Pathetic, even. But right before he falls asleep, he thinks about fate and puzzle pieces.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading <3 xxo
> 
> Your feedback is always appreciated if you want to leave a comment (:


End file.
